SEPTEMBER waves his golden-rod

Along the lanes and hollows,

And saunters round the sunny fields,

A-playing with the swallows.

The corn has listened for his step;

The maples blush to greet him;

And gay, coquetting sumac dons

Her velvet cloak to meet him.

Come to the hearth, O merry prince!

With flaming knot and ember;

For all your tricks of frosty eves,

We love your ways, September!




Ellen Mackay Hutchinson